


A Life on Top of the Game

by wordspillingrose



Category: The Good Fight (TV), The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Headcanon, Legal Drama, Love, Worklife, episode fillers, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-06-24 20:25:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19731160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordspillingrose/pseuds/wordspillingrose
Summary: "Men can be lazy, women can't."A collection of Oneshots centering around Diane Lockhart.





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> This is my holiday project. I don't know yet how this will turn out and if someone is even interested in this. Can't promise to post regularly, my muse is kind of a b*tch.  
> Maybe some chapters will be connected in a loosely way, the rating, appearing characters and tags may be changed later.
> 
> Anyway, I'll appreciate every kudo and comment, it means a lot to me as I'm still unpractised in writing fanfiction. Hope you enjoy!

Long legs. Hair coloured slightly too dark to match those of an angel in children imaginations. Deep voice. Icey eyes in a hue between grey and blue. Lips painted in a shade of red. Not cute or girlish but dominant and still feminine. Her dresses and suits never failing at flattering her slender figure. Stunning, just not at first sight. Her beauty is subtle, slowly entering your consciousness, until you realize it with all senses. Once past that point, it is impossible to brush aside her appearance.

Calculating. Unbending. Cold. Enduring. Articulate. All those traits have brought her to the top of the game. A game that is mainly played by men. It’s not uncommon for her ending up in a room full of guys. And it has happened more than once that they expected her to be obsequious due to her position in the crowded room. Only to be left bewildered by her naturalness taking the lead. She does not care about how she is supposed to behave. Never did.  
Nobody is allowed to mess with her. She is the one coordinating, and everybody else around her has to accept it. She gave up her whole life for the firm. Everybody who tries taking it out of her hand ends up miserable. Some would call her names behind her back, make assertions why she’s so successful. Insults are the price you pay for fighting for what you built, so she guesses. It did never come to her mind to sleep her way up to the top. Certainly, at some points of her career she used her looks to get what she wanted, but not in the way she’s accused of. She knows and always knew how to use her charisma for achieving small things. Little smiles, a slightly too long look at her target, dropping her voice a little bit. Just for gathering facts which she can use to strengthen her position. To win a fight. To do better in her job.

A part of her fears falling. She reached the very top, and is therefore living like she did so. Wants her work to be her legacy. It is the only way being remembered when she passes away one day. She is the last one in the line of a successful family, which always came along with certain responsibilities. And she’s determined to fulfil them. Others at her age would think about taking some steps back, giving the power to someone else, younger than them. Already guessing when they would be able to retire within the following years. But she is far away from being ready to do so. Despite the long working hours, the different personalities she has to cope with throughout the day, she loves what she is doing. It was never only about the money.


	2. Allegations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of TGW 01x18, "Doubt"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feels like ages that I posted last, and it truly was a long time since my last (and first) update. I'm really sorry for that, but I hope some people will still read and enjoy this chapter.

„Turn off the lights.“

She left, her faked smirk quickly disappearing from her scarlet red lips, striding towards the elevator, running away from her wandering thoughts that would way too soon catch up with her. A relieved sigh escaped her when the doors closed behind her, giving her the feeling of safety, at least a tiny bit, isolating her from the possibility of hearing Will’s exasperated voice, from being forced to look in his face that had displayed nothing but disappointment, disbelieve and slight shock. Diane closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, waiting for the soothing effect, but it didn’t come. Instead, memories of the past minutes took over her mind, accompanied by premonitions of a throbbing headache.

_“You don’t understand what you did to this firm.”_

Shaking her head carefully, to not worsen the dull pounding behind her brows, she opened her eyes as the elevator stopped, forcing the thought away, not willing to cope with possible effects her doing had and will have on the firm quite yet, craving for some more seconds of peace and quiet. Placing a loose strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, she stepped out of the elevator, walking along her usual path to her car. Unconsciously she caught her bottom lip between her teeth, inflicting a light pain that distracted her once more from overthinking her previous actions. However, when she reached her car, unlocked it, the automatically turned on lights in the interior casting additional shadows around her, shaky, fading images of her surroundings and herself, she couldn’t withstand anymore. Leaning against her black Cadillac, she laughed out loud, her tone bitter, and she couldn’t tell if it was out of anger, frustration, the absurdity of the whole situation or to not cry because of her fear of unlikely, yet potential consequences for the firm, her career and her relationship with Will.

_“Did it even occur to you to tell me?”_

_“No, it didn’t.”_

Yes, it did. She hadn’t even left the hotel room of Kurt McVeigh when the thought of confessing her casual encounter with their former expert witness to her business partner had hit her the first time. That they will have to find another expert on ballistics for future cases if – and she considered that to be highly improbable - it turns out to be more than just a one-time-thing. But then Kurt had kissed her goodbye, and his fingers on her skin inflicted a passion within her that turned all her concerns into a trivial, easily ignorable heap of ashes. If he would have testified for them, it would have almost been a necessity to tell Will, she had realised back then, as she would have expected the same thing from him. However, Kurt had decided to not help them upon his believe that their client was guilty, and that eliminated every connection to her ongoing businesses.

_“Diane, the jury ate it up. It was sex. It wasn’t GSR or ballistics, it was sex!”_

As if she didn’t know that before. Yes, it was sex, simple as that. Diane sensed that her partner was aware that it had been nothing but. And she had expected him to not be overjoyed when he found out in court, taking the possibility of the jury buying the prosecutors implications. Still she was surprised about his outrage, and for a short moment, she felt backed into a corner. Her own reservations about the choices she made two nights ago forced their way back into her mind. Images of ancestors whose protests she had shushed that evening, now glancing at her, shaking their heads, determined to make her regret her decisions. She needed to get out, away from the furious man in front of her that she considered her friend, away from the denunciatory voices in her head. Diane wanted to go home.

Her lungs began to burn due to her too heavy breathing, sorrow and supressed tears that dared to sneak out of her light blue eyes, that wanted to be seen and felt, unwelcomed presents for her rash actions, caressing her skin in the present day because she couldn’t resist the sensation of his lips on hers in the past. Her body trembled slightly at her attempt to stand upright, forcing her to stay propped against her car. She let her gaze wander hurriedly, fearful that someone could see her in such an unfortunate and weak state. But it was late, the parking garage nearly empty, and all she was able to hear was her muffled panting and an idea of her own heartbeat.

_“If you had just told me. If you had just given me a sign!”_

She had intended to do so. At least at the beginning, when Kalinda came up with new information, and Kurt decided to testify for Will’s case, but when they went out to his farm to take a look at the evidence, and Kurt all the while acted as if there hadn’t been anything but professional encounters between them, she decided it would be nothing more than a waste of time. That their night together was condemned to be forgotten. The slight regret that she felt at that thought convinced her to silently draw a line under her short adventure with the Republican cowboy and to look forward instead of wallowing in memories.

Perhaps she was wrong keeping her private life private even when it got mixed up with the firms business. However, Will’s barefacedness made it impossible for her to admit any wrongdoing on her side. He himself was definitely not free of guilt.

_“There is nothing going on with Alicia.”_

She knew that it was a lie. Even though she doubted whether Will was completely aware of his feelings for the associate, the anger about his hypocrisy had given her the power to leave her office with her head held high. And she would use it against him if she has to. Diane was not willing to back down, especially not because of a mistake she wasn’t even sure was one.

She felt her determination coming back, displacing the scepticism towards herself with renewed firmness. Again, she took a deep breath while her hand wandered to the bridge of her nose to massage it, an attempt to appease her raging thoughts and subdue her headache. Her eyes fluttered closed for some moments, and when she opened them again, she had gathered the strength to brace up and get into her car to eventually head home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always welcome.


	3. Temptations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a deleted scene from TGW 01x13, "Bad" which I found on tumblr and was originally posted by @ afinpassing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting this collection, I thought i would be able to follow the timeline. Well, seems like I can't; two chapters in and I already messed up, but I hope that is forgiveable.
> 
> Please enjoy.

It was unusual for her to be home before sunset, but after getting her lesson at the shooting range, she had decided to not return to her office. Her shoes discarded in the hallway, she entered her kitchen silently, left her keys behind on the isle and set her purse beside them for the moment. She let her gaze wander through the room, pondering whether she should get herself something to eat or delay dinner for some more hours. Deciding on the latter, she grabbed her purse from the counter and headed into her bedroom. The sun-flooded cushions were a sight she could barely remember, and with a content sigh she sat down on the edge of her bed. Opening her bag, she fished out the book she had bought on her way home, and it joined three others that were already scattered over the sheets, purchased in optimistic seconds back when she had thought she would have the time and be motivated enough to read a little bit before going to sleep. She was about to place the purse onto the floor when she remembered it wasn't empty yet. Hesitating for a second, she then pulled out a case, revealing the gun she shouldn't be able to call her own when she opened the hard shell. She placed the Beretta and its magazine alongside her unread books on the duvet, not really sure why she left the weapon on display.

She lay her legs on the bed and shuffled backwards until she rested against the pillows, feet hanging slightly over the edge of the bed. For a moment she closed her eyes, concentrating only on her breathing in order to relax and get rid of at least some work-related concerns. Viewing the books, she settled on the newest one, "The Humbling" by Philip Roth. Having received overall bad critics and being aware of that, a part of Diane wondered why she had procured the novel nevertheless. She examined the cover, unconsciously nibbling on her painted upper lip, then turned it around and opened it to flip through the pages. While doing so, her gaze shifted from the pages to her gun, causing her to set the book aside and reach for the semi-automatic instead. Carefully she took it into her hands, her fingertips brushing the cold surface lightly. Tightening her grip, she raised the gun, a sideway smirk appearing on her face for the fraction of a second caused by the absurdity of the situation, before she brought it on eye level, her brows shooting up in concentration. She closed her left eye and aimed at an invisible spot on the opposite wall. Her right forefinger caressing the trigger, Diane drew her cardinal red lips into her mouth for a moment to wet them before she closed her second eye, suddenly recalling Kalinda's words.

_"Why can't I shoot to injure?"_

_“You pick up a gun; you shoot to kill, or you don’t pick up a gun.”_

She opened her eyes while raising her left hand to support the right that was holding the Beretta, fingers curling around its side and wrist.

_"They're a shadow target, a bull's eye."_

_"So you dehumanize them?"_

_"They are dehumanised. The world doesn't march to your drummer."_

She focused on the unreal enemy in front of her, the magazine lying at her feet, untouched.

In her imagination she loaded the gun hastily before facing the intruder, pulled the trigger, the shot echoing from the walls. Abruptly blood covered the end of her bed, spreading on the expensive floor of her apartment, a lifeless body that had a dark red hole where an eye of a colour she didn't know once was situated in her bedroom. She had to get up, call the police, stocking-clad feet trying to not touch the blood, but it was everywhere...

Shuddering, Diane pushed back the sanguinary fantasy and lowered her arms again. After scrutinizing the deadly, yet beautifully formed piece of steel in her hands one last time, she put it back into the case and zipped it up, shoving it into the drawer of her bedside table, out of sight. Still, the awareness of owning a gun continued ghosting through her mind. How she was supposed to hate having it in her bedroom, to loathe the feeling of holding it in her hands, dainty fingers dancing over a trigger she wasn't allowed thinking of pulling, never. She shouldn't sympathise with the false impression of safety it provided.

Sighing quietly, she shifted until her body leant upright against the many pillows which hid the headboard, tucked a strand of dark blonde hair behind her ear and took one of the novels that were surrounding her frame, determined to give the story buried between the pages a chance and lose herself in a world she could trade for another one if she wasn't content with it, unlike the straining reality she lived in.

As time went by, the light of the sun that shone through the large window onto her sheets faded into a dark orange, encasing the lawyer with its fiery colour without providing her with the promised warmth. She still stared at the very first page, unable to come past the first few sentences because her mind relished in thinking about the feeling of power she had had when holding the gun, despite the controversy unwilling to let the enchanting memory of control and might entirely go.


End file.
